


Five Courses

by Raptor_Redemption



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Incubus!ignis, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Succubi & Incubi, Telepathy, Werewolves, mentions of ABO dynamics, werewolf!Gladio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22010590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raptor_Redemption/pseuds/Raptor_Redemption
Summary: Ignis Scientia is starving, but one werewolf is about to make sure Ignis never goes hungry again.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 7
Kudos: 104
Collections: Final Fantasy XV NSFW Secret Santa 2019





	Five Courses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadySalamander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySalamander/gifts).



> A pinch-hit gift I wrote for 2019's FFXV NSFW Secret Santa! It was a lot of fun to mod this event, and I was so happy to be able to gift this fic. c:
> 
> The prompt was: _Ignis x Gladio, cross dressing is fun, so are monster bois and semi public performances but I'm not picky, go ham if you had something else in mind!_
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Ignis is tired.

For the past  _ year  _ of his century-long life, no amount of sustenance has been enough. His eyelids weigh heavy, long lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks gaunt with hunger, and he sleeps.

It's all he  _ can  _ do, save for the rare days he finds a young man willing to be his victim.

It doesn't have to be this way, but Ignis has grown picky over the past decade. He won't prey on women (not for fear of any moral quandary—the thought of such a thing is laughable to an incubus like him), but because his proclivities are too  _ specific _ . It's not femininity he wants, and even his adoration for male prey has grown so specific that finding the proper targets has become a chore rather than a delight.

He imagines that, in terms humans might understand, he has eaten little but plain toast and lukewarm chicken broth for too long. Ignis wants a  _ feast _ , not only for his own indulgence but because he can't remember the last time he felt energetic. He misses the lust, the hunt, the exact moment when his chosen succumbs. He has little interest in a buffet full of mediocre fare.

No, he is  _ Ignis Scientia _ , and he deserves something more.

When the musky sweet stink of a werewolf in a rut lingers thick in the air, Ignis knows he's found his answer.

He won't be picky this time, he convinces himself. He won't turn down a five-course meal, even if the dishes aren't his favorite. A werewolf, unsatisfied in the midst of its mating cycle, will yield the exact energy Ignis needs to recuperate. At the very least, it will be a good fuck, even if Ignis doesn't find the creature appropriate for his tastes.

For some time, he watches and waits, lithe body curled into a thatch of thick tree limbs just above the werewolf's den. With a curious eye, Ignis waits, and all the while his arousal and his hunger flare with every pull of the wind that brings the scent to him. 

"Come on out, darling," Ignis murmurs. "Listen to your body and come find a pretty hole to fuck into."

Despite Ignis's impatience, the thrill  _ consumes  _ him. He's conjured the finest robes of black and golden silk to hug all the right spots against his shape and hide the way his ribs have begun to show like a cage beneath his skin. In the forest's dim light, the occasional rays of sun warm his hair to the same fiery auburn of a wood fire smoldering down to its last burn.

When shadows begin to move just within the entrance of the den, Ignis's body tenses with anticipation. Delicate, long-nailed fingers tuck stray hair behind his ears and drift along the headdress which decorates his horns. Tiny red jewels like teardrops dangle from golden chains, and he only hopes that his entrance will be as grandiose as his attire.

"And where might you be going in such a state?" Ignis asks. He alights just in front of the werewolf, shocked to see him maintaining enough control to fill his body as a man rather than a beast. The tips of Ignis's toes barely touch the ground. Slowly, gracefully, he lowers his boots to the soil with a touch light enough to prevent the pointed heels of his boots from sinking into the soft earth.

"Gladiolus, isn't it?"

In its human form, the werewolf stands even taller than Ignis and much,  _ much  _ broader. "Gladio," he growls. 

" _ Gladio _ . Afraid to carry the name of something so prim as a flower?" Ignis taunts.

Gladio only huffs and shoves past Ignis into the thicket. "Ain't nothing prim about me."

Ignis smirks. He knew that it might start out this way—grumpiness during a rut is only commonplace. "I'm Ignis," he says. As he follows Gladio through the brush, the jewels of his headdress tinkle faintly against his horns. 

"This is my territory. Lucky I ain't ripped into you, yet."

"Well, that's not very welcoming is it, Gladio?"

Finally, Gladio halts and spins around to face Ignis so hard that dirt spins up at his feet. "What do you want, demon?"

Ignis shrugs, demure, and closes the distance between himself and Gladio with confident, serpentine steps. "Only to help," he says. In a way, it's genuine, and his eyes must read as much for Gladio to visibly calm as he does. "Where are all your teeth and bristling fur,  _ werewolf _ ?" If Gladio is going to play a game of species identification rather than use Ignis's name, then Ignis will do the same.

"I-It's worse that way."  _ Ah, yes.  _ Finally, Ignis is getting somewhere.

"You crave the physicality of a weaker creature in need." Ignis says it more like a statement than a question. "I must say that I can certainly understand your plight. Does it hurt?" Taking a risk, Ignis reaches out to press his palm flat against Gladio's bare chest. Beneath hot, fevered skin and a wall of muscle, the quick pound of Gladio's heart rumbles into Ignis's palm.

"Yeah," Gladio says. He doesn't make eye contact, but Ignis knows that golden eyes await him, eclipsed by pupils blown out with lust.

It's a good sign that Gladio hasn't flinched from Ignis's touch, so he takes a single step forward. They're so close now that Ignis could press himself flush against Gladio whenever he chose, and oh how he wishes he could choose right now. "I could help," Ignis says. "Unless it is truly your drive to breed a few pups, in which I'm afraid I can be of absolutely no assistance at all."

To Ignis's amusement, Gladio shakes his head so hard that his shoulder-length hair falls free from its half-ponytail and cascades around Gladio's impressive shoulders. "Nah. Not, uh, what I'm really lookin' for."

"Could it be that  _ I  _ am what you're looking for?" Ignis dares. He calls upon every piece of his instinct, draws from each cell of his being the gift of temptation he was born with. When Gladio doesn't answer, Ignis rests his remaining hand beside the other on Gladio's chest. His heart beats faster, and Ignis slips his tongue out from behind sharp fangs to lick along his lower lip. "If your heart rate is any indication, it would seem I've struck a nerve. Perhaps your answer is 'yes'?"

Ignis watches Gladio's own hands barely lift from his sides and tremble near Ignis's waist.

"Go on," Ignis whispers. They're so close now that he can smell Gladio's last bloody meal on his breath, and the scent of copper has Ignis's cock hardening against his thigh. "You're in a rut. Do you think I can't tell? I'd argue that my sense of smell is even better than yours, puppy."

It's the nickname that has Gladio growling and grabbing at Ignis's wrists. As a unit, bodies entangled, Gladio pushes Ignis back until his back slams against a wide tree trunk. The blunt tips of peeling bark push into Ignis's back, and he hisses out a stream of pleasure when Gladio's own sharp teeth bare at his throat. "Ain't your puppy. I don't  _ fuck  _ like a puppy."

Completely cool, Ignis answers in a whisper, "Then show me how you fuck."

Already, Ignis feels stronger—with each breath, he draws into his own body more and more of Gladio's lust. The sensation fills him, makes him braver, brings him closer to his primal instincts.

Gladio's eyes narrow, and Ignis takes the opportunity to pull free from the werewolf's grasp.

With little flourish and nonsense, Ignis steps away and turns to face Gladio again. He's pleased to see Gladio's eyes trailing him, like a predator eyeing his prey. It's cute, really, how Gladio thinks  _ Ignis  _ could be the hunted here. A charming sentiment.

When Ignis is certain that every minutia of Gladio's senses are trained on him, he works nimble fingers around the clasps of his robes. Piece by piece, sleek armor drops to the forest floor with naught but a rustle of leaves, and the cloth garments are the last to go. Beneath them, Ignis wears little, but he's pleased to feel the surge of sustenance from Gladio's increasing arousal.

The raiment that Ignis has chosen is something typically reserved for the succubi of his species, but he's always felt that the strappy black pieces flatter his body more appropriately than others. The lingerie is nothing like the human variety, more like armor than fabric, but the tendrils that twist upward from the panties at his hips are distinctly feminine, regardless. The twists and curves of the bralette and panties seem to be a part of his very skin, so close to his body that they rise and fall with every twist of his muscle and rise of his chest. Ignis holds out his arms and spins delicately in place to give Gladio just a glimpse of the way the panties disappear within the cleft of his perfectly supple ass. Everything is bared for his prey, just the way Ignis likes it.

"Do you like them?" Ignis asks.

Gladio might as well be drooling—Ignis has to admit that he's a little disappointed in the lack of driveling. It wouldn't be the first time boys have lost control of their bodily functions in response to Ignis undressing in front of them.

"I need to come."

Finally, with the utterance of only four simple words, Ignis and Gladio are on the same page.

Like a carefully choreographed dance, they step toward one another with need fueling their motion. The idea of taking this monster's cum into him sends Ignis absolutely over the edge, and he wastes no time in dropping to his knees and helping Gladio to free his cock from a pair of jeans that Ignis wants nothing more than to see  _ gone _ . 

There's no time for that, though, only the rush of yanking the pants down over Gladio's ass and letting his cock spring free. It's almost fully erect already, and Ignis breathes in the musky scent of Gladio's arousal as if it's the freshest, purest draw of oxygen he's ever found.

Reverently, Ignis takes the bobbing length against his palms and slides his hands up and down its length, taking in the full implications of its girth.  _ Of course _ , Ignis thinks.  _ Of  _ course  _ the werewolf has a comically huge dick.  _ It's not a complaint—no, far from it. In fact, Ignis can't wait to swallow the thing down, and he wastes no time.

Twigs and the pointed tips of holly leaves nestle deep into Ignis's knees, but he finds the sting arousing more than anything else. He imagines he could withstand any kind of pain right now, as long as it meant he could keep sucking at Gladio's length.

Carefully, he takes the tip between thumb and forefinger to draw Gladio's foreskin back just enough to reveal a bead of precum at the slit. Hungrily, Ignis licks it away with a single swipe of his tongue, and then he gets to work. He begins carefully, cupping his tongue along the underside of the head, then kisses up and down each side of Gladio's impressive length. It's all Ignis can do to keep himself from burying the cock into his mouth and throat, and he's happy to know that Gladio is just as impatient when he feels the hair at the nape of his neck tugged and his head pulled forward.

Throat full of heavy, leaking cock, Ignis peers up at Gladio and searches for eye contact. He's incredibly pleased when he sees Gladio's pupils blown with lust, and even happier when a shadow of surprise crosses Gladio's features.

"Y-you—"

Ignis swallows around Gladio, and that shuts him up. It's all right—Ignis already knows exactly why Gladio is so surprised. He can only imagine how his gaunt cheeks must have filled out by now, how his pale skin has likely taken on a glow so radiant that he might be gleaming. Ignis hasn't felt so full in ages, and the sensation is satisfying enough to put his head in a spin and send his eyes rolling back into his head.

Clawed fingers curl around each inch of Gladio's cock that Ignis isn't engulfing in his mouth, and he's pleased to find that even the base is positively dripping with thick saliva from Ignis's dedication to taking Gladio to the base with every few bobs of his head.

He wants so badly to speak to Gladio, to tell him what a good boy he is while he fucks Ignis's pretty, wet mouth.

Has he drawn enough power to—?

Ignis knows there's only one way to try.

In his mind, he thinks clearly about what he wants to say and, more importantly, what he wants Gladio to  _ hear _ .  _ You look just as delicious as you taste, puppy. You're doing so well, but I imagine you can push into me further. Don't you want to fuck my throat? I don't mind if you think about me on my knees while you do it—this isn't my  _ only  _ hole, you know. _

Ignis watches carefully as he sends the words into Gladio's brain. There's a brief pause in the movement of Gladio's hips, but then Ignis feels nails slicing into his jaw and Gladio pushes more quickly and earnestly than he has yet. It's exactly what Ignis wants and needs, and with every slide of Gladio's shaft along his lips he grows stronger.

_ In my mouth,  _ Ignis tells him.  _ Down my throat. I want to taste your cum. I want it inside me. _

It must have been the words that sent Gladio over the edge, because it's only moments later that Ignis feels the hot pulse of cum shoot down into him. He works his throat carefully around Gladio's tip to coax it all down and closes his eyes to savor the sensation. Ignis's work is clean, not a single drop out of place, and he ends his meal with a lick of his lips and a kiss atop the swollen tip of Gladio's cock.

Ignis thinks that he wants more of this one, that maybe  _ this  _ is the man he's been looking for. Cocking one carefully groomed eyebrow, he asks a question with his eyes. When Gladio pounces, Ignis has his answer.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you think! Feel free to leave a comment below, toss some kudos my way, or hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/raptor_redeem) if you want to see more grey-ace incubus feelings.


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